Tag Archives: classic hollywood

As any longtime festival attendee knows, a seat at one of the pre-code films at the TCM Classic Film Festival is akin to a ticket for the hottest show in town. Passholders line up hours in advance, hoping to secure a good line number–if they’re lucky and get there early enough, they might even be able to sit next to their friends. “Early enough” for a pre-code film? It can be as much 2 hours early.

For years, I have questioned why the festival didn’t simply put the pre-codes in a larger theater to accommodate the huge crowds that flock to them. It seems natural that, given the numbers that they track, those movies made between 1929 and 1934 should always be at a large theater like the Egyptian or Grauman’s Chinese. But they’re always in the considerably smaller Chinese multiplex theaters. This festival, I brought the question up in conversation with someone in line, who informed me that the multiplex theaters are the only ones that can play 35mm. I have not been able to verify that, but if true, I suppose it makes sense.

Whenever I introduce a new friend to classic movies, I always start with a pre-code. They’re modern in a way that has a tendency to make people change their minds about what they think classic movies are. Frequently, people outside the film world believe classic movies to be wholesome goodness, where people overact and speak in outdated slang, where women are submissive and there’s never a hint of sex. But when they’re confronted with something like Baby Face, it’s a new world.

Because of the difficulties in enforcing the Production Code of 1930, which aimed to sanitize the movies, studios were finding loopholes in the self-policing code and making movies that they knew would sell–namely, movies with strong sexual themes and independent women. Sell they did, and sell they continue to. Very little has changed in the minds of the viewing public between then and now–even today’s sophisticated audiences, when exposed to pre-code Hollywood, go wild. They seem to tap into something primal in our natures

This year I attended two pre-codes, Merrily We Go to Hell and Vanity Street. Both were textbook pre-codes, with Merrily We Go to Hell strongly suggesting an open marriage and Vanity Street condoning crime and adultery. The former was directed by the great Dorothy Arzner, one of the predominant female directors in early Hollywood and the most prolific of the 1930s. In Cari Beauchamp’s introduction of the film (marvelously capped by the line “Enjoy the hell out of Merrily We Go to Hell,”) she traced the biography of Arzner and how it was largely by luck and chance, meeting the right people (several of them women) at the right time, that Arzner was able to rise up the ladder in Hollywood and become the respected director that she ultimately became.

The story of a young woman who marries the man she loves only to find out that he’s an alcoholic prone to cheating, Merrily We Go to Hell refuses to allow the wife, played by Sylvia Sidney, to be the victim. Instead, she’s a woman with a spine and self-respect. When her husband, played by Fredric March, cheats on her and then tells her to block the door so he can’t leave, she opens the door wide for him. When he returns, she is packed to leave. She remains, on the condition that she, too, be able to have affairs. The result is an open marriage, and they live this way until the wife finally leaves for good, returning all his letters and starting her life anew. The ending, however, was a bit disappointing–I can just see the studios tacking it on at the last minute to make the audience feel better about marriage in general.

After the movie, the general consensus among the audience members I talked to was just that–it was a fantastic movie, empowering and strong up to the very last scene. All the actors did a magnificent job, especially, in my view, Sylvia Sidney. If you haven’t seen it, it is definitely worth scoping out for a hearty dose of pre-code goodness.

Vanity Street was quite different in its approach. Instead of a marriage drama, this was a crime drama, almost a pre-code noir. It deals with a young woman who breaks a window to be sent to jail (“They feed you there,” she says, reminding us that this is the height of the Depression). She befriends the policeman who arrests her, and he takes pity on her situation, bringing her back to his apartment to stay while and helping her land a chorus job. But the chorus ends up bringing her trouble, as she is ultimately implicated in a murder.

In its style, I would compare Vanity Street to something like Three on a Match or Virtue, with Charles Bickford and Helen Chandler playing the main roles. In a supporting role is Mayo Methot, best known as Humphrey Bogart’s first wife. This one was presented once again by Cari Beauchamp, who has made a name for herself as one of the festival’s most loved presenters. The TCM Festival crowd is known for its passion and extensive movie knowledge, and from Cari Beauchamp’s presentations, I always come away with new stories from behind the scenes.

One of the things I learned from this presentation is that Helen Chandler, whose movie career was cut short by mental illness and addiction, was cremated in 1965 and her ashes have never been claimed. This made me very sad and being the person I am, I got to thinking–what would it take to claim her ashes and give her a proper burial? If no one has claimed her ashes since 1965, then she belongs to us, the people who work to keep her memory alive. If any of my readers work in this industry and have any advice, I would love to hear from you on how we might get a campaign like this started. I will keep you all posted.

When we speak of “lost films,” we never mean really lost. The significance of that phrase is to say that no copies are known to have been preserved in any archive , museum, or collection–and thus, the film in question hasn’t been seen publicly since around the time of its release. Lost films have been known to turn up in garage sales, warehouses, and even underground on construction sites.

Every now and then, a researcher or a museum curator gets the call of a lifetime, from an everyday citizen who, for example, might have been cleaning out his attic when he found a film reel that he thought might be worth something and upon inspection, the curator discovers that it’s a lost Buster Keaton film. Or a scene that was cut from the known version of an existing movie. This is an archivist’s dream, and news of the discovery frequently spreads like wildfire through the film world.

The Mary Pickford Foundation came across such a dream discovery in 2012, when they learned that a copy of Fanchon the Cricket, which Mary Pickford herself always thought was lost, actually existed at the Cinémathèque Française. Collaborating over the course of 6 years with the Cinémathèque, the British Film Institute (which held an incomplete nitrate print) and the Immagine Ritrovata in Bologna, Italy, the MPF has brought the 1915 film back to the public.

And what a beautiful restoration it is. The Immagine Ritrovata was responsible for the physical portions of the restoration, photochemically bringing the film up to standard, then scanning it onto 4K high definition. The painstaking work that went into Fanchon the Cricket at the Immagine Ritrovata is visible–it’s one of the most beautifully restored versions of a 1910s-era movie that I’ve ever seen. The print is clear, devoid of distracting cuts or water damage, and it has a “nitrate look” to it–with the shine and confidence that a nitrate print projects.

The film itself is quite interesting to watch, an adaptation of the novel by George Sand, with the scenario written by Frances Marion and director James Kirkwood. Mary Pickford shows her true versatility as an actress in the role of Fanchon, a wild child who later grows up and proves herself to be a strong woman with a conscience, refusing to marry a boy unless his father asks her and showing the town what it means to love. It’s pretty standard fare, plot-wise, for 1915, but Pickford plays both sides of Fanchon with great skill and nuance, with subtle facial expressions that show her to be an immensely gifted actress. The movie is notable for being the only one to feature all three Pickford siblings–Mary’s sister, Lottie, plays Madelon, the lover of the lead male character, and her brother Jack appears as a bully.

Mary Pickford with her best friend, co-writer of Fanchon the Cricket Frances Marion.

The Mary Pickford Foundation commissioned a new score for the movie by Julian Ducatenzeiler and Adam Gladbach, and the foundation’s resident scholar, Cari Beauchamp, wrote the liner notes for the release. The notes provide fascinating backstories on Pickford as well as the personalities behind the camera. Beauchamp is the pre-eminent expert on Frances Marion, who was also Mary Pickford’s best friend, and wrote Without Lying Down: Frances Marion and the Powerful Women of Early Hollywood, a book that has become required reading for anyone learning about this era of filmmaking. The liner notes are exquisitely accompanied by behind-the-scenes photos provided by the Mary Pickford Foundation and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

It is a stunning achievement, and I highly recommend this release to anyone interested in Mary Pickford, early Hollywood, or the process of restoring a film made more than 100 years ago. The DVD and BluRay combination can be purchased here at Flicker Alley, or here on Amazon.

Thank you to the Mary Pickford Foundation, the BFI, the Cinémathèque Française, and l’Immagine Ritrovata for making this film possible.

Mary Pickford breaks ground on the new Motion Picture & Television Country House and Hospital, 1941.

Every Wednesday this month, Turner Classic Movies dedicates its programming to highlighting the Motion Picture & Television Fund, one of the great treasures of the film industry. Securing the livelihoods of countless people who work or have worked in motion pictures, the MPTF operates a hospital, a senior home for those who need those services, and a general fund to help elderly people remain in their homes or to provide a safety net for former film workers who have fallen on hard times.

The programming consists of movies introduced by the people who were a part of them, now residents of the Motion Picture Country House. I was thrilled to hear about this tribute, as I find that few people outside of the world of film and television know much about the MPTF, truly a labor of love and dedication to, as the slogan says, “Taking Care of Our Own.”

The history of the MPTF is a storied one. Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, D.W. Griffith, and Charlie Chaplin (the same group that created United Artists) saw a need to provide a fund for those working in movies who were down on their luck. To start it, they created a simple coin box system, in which people could donate their spare change to help their fellow Hollywood folk. In 1921, the fund was incorporated as the Motion Picture Relief Fund, with Joe Schenck serving as its first president, and Pickford serving as vice-president. No one served in an advisory capacity for very long–as an egalitarian organization, and one by the film industry and for the film industry, presidents served on a rotating basis and came from varying Hollywood backgrounds, including Harold Lloyd, Jesse Lasky, and Marion Davies.

Pickford campaigned tirelessly for the fund, gathering donations and organizing events and programs that would serve as benefits. The 1929 stock market crash combined with the coming of talkies to Hollywood had left many of the film colony without work, and the fund was needed now more than ever. She noted, to her frustration, that there were 20,000 people working in films, but only 400 people were signed up as contributors to the Motion Picture Relief Fund. In order to streamline her campaigning, she instituted the Payroll Pledge Program in 1932, in which a very small portion of an person’s paycheck from working in the movies went to the fund–much like a social security program or insurance policy for Hollywood workers. In the midst of the Depression, the Motion Picture Relief Fund saved 75 people from being evicted and purchased groceries for 2,500.

Even as early as 1924, the need for a specialized senior care facility was on the minds of Pickford and those invested in the Motion Picture Relief Fund. In order to raise money for the construction, in 1939 Jean Hersholt (president of the fund at the time) came up with the idea of having a radio show in which many big name celebrities would appear, who would all donate their salaries to the Motion Picture Relief Fund. The plan worked, the radio show was a smash hit, and construction on the Motion Picture Country House (“house” instead of “home” because, as Pickford said, Hollywood people always consider themselves “between engagements”) began in 1941. Operations started in 1948, and among its more prominent residents over the years have been Norma Shearer, Bud Abbott, Mary Astor, Mack Sennett, Donald O’Connor, Joel McCrea, Edna Purviance, and countless others. Today, it is home to more than 100 long-term residents, and operates 6 outpatient facilities across Los Angeles.

The dining room at the Motion Picture Country House today.

Upon a visit to the Motion Picture Country House a number of years ago to see a friend, it was clear what remarkable and important work the MPTF does. My friend is valued and respected, getting care that goes above and beyond the call of duty. I came away from the visit with a deep sense of appreciation for the MPTF and everything the organization does for the industry. I’m happy to see that TCM is helping to shine a light on their work.

Be sure to see residents of the Motion Picture Country House every Wednesday in September on TCM, introducing movies they had a part in. For more information on the activities of Mary Pickford surrounding the Motion Picture Relief Fund, please see Cari Beauchamp’s article for the Mary Pickford Foundation, from which much of this piece was drawn, by clicking here.

If you would like to donate to the current Motion Picture & Television Fund, you can do so online at http://mptf.com/donate or by mail:

From beautiful, unseasonably warm New York City, where I have spent the past week engulfed in research, I wish you a very happy holiday! Here are some photos of classic Hollywood stars celebrating.

The Marion Davies Children’s Clinic, 1954

Marion Davies founded her children’s clinic in 1926, and every year she sponsored a party for the patients and their families, which included entertainment for the children and a Christmas turkey and groceries for the parents. Here in 1954, she celebrates with the children and Santa Claus, played by her husband, Horace Brown.

During the war, many celebrities participated in fundraising activities for the war effort. In this scene, Bette Davis plays a mother teaching her onscreen children the value of war bonds.

Judy Garland sings “Silent Night,” 1937.

Claudette Colbert with her Christmas wreath, 1932.

Angela Lansbury sings “We Need a Little Christmas,” from the original Broadway cast recording of Mame.

Hello, dear readers! I usually make it a point to post at least once a week, but due to an inordinately busy schedule over the past few days, that goal has eluded me. But here I am, ready to post about one of the things that has been occupying my time away from the blog.

In the quaint Niles district of Fremont, CA lives the Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum, a little theater with a huge heart. It celebrates an integral part of this town’s heritage–one of which few people are aware. When visitors come to Fremont, little do most people know that it was here that one of the top early film companies, Essanay Studios, flourished and produced a multitude of films in the early 1900s. Charlie Chaplin produced many of his early films here. Broncho Billy Anderson, the first Western star, was born out of Essanay Studios. It was a major focal point for the film industry, and the Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum aims to educate the public about its history through tours, films, and festivals.

This weekend will be the Broncho Billy Silent Film Festival, an annual occasion that celebrates not only the legacy of Broncho Billy in Niles, but also the art of silent film as a whole. I have been busy volunteering and preparing for this festival, and I am happy to say that it’s going to be a great one this year. The opening night movie will be The Big Parade, the 1925 King Vidor epic that I consider to be among the top 5 silent films ever made. It will be followed by many other great features and shorts throughout the weekend, including a showing of Charlie Chaplin’s The Circus and the rarely seen 1928 comedy The Spieler, starring Alan Hale and Renee Adoree.

Sunday is the real kicker. Following group of her films, the festival will be graced with its guest of honor, the beautiful and talented 95-year-old Diana Serra Cary–the former Baby Peggy.

Between 1920 and 1924, Baby Peggy-Jean Montgomery was the toast of Hollywood. At the height of her fame, her film grosses equaled those of Charlie Chaplin, and she was one of the top three child stars of the silent era along with Jackie Coogan and Baby Marie. In 1924, her career took the turn of far too many Hollywood child stars–her stardom waned after her money was squandered by her father. She was relegated to vaudeville, and ultimately returned to Hollywood to work in bit parts to pay the bills. Later on, wanting to rid herself of the pain of Baby Peggy, she reinvented herself as Diana Serra Cary–becoming a prominent author, film historian, and activist for children’s rights. It was as Diana Serra Cary that she wrote a biography of former Hollywood rival Jackie Coogan, and that she became active in A Minor Consideration, an organization that advocates for children in the entertainment industry. And at 95 years old, she’s still going.

Diana Serra Cary today.

Now for the big news. I will have the unparalleled honor of interviewing Diana Serra Cary onstage at the Broncho Billy Silent Film Festival on Sunday. If you are in the area, please come out and see Circus Clowns, Peg O’ the Mounted, and the 2013 film Broncho Billy and the Bandit’s Secret in which Diana Serra Cary has an appearance at the age of 94. And see my Q&A with her between films! It promises to be a great day.

Here is the site for ticket information. You can reserve them online, or buy them at the door. I look forward to seeing you there!

Hello again readers, it is a rare occasion when I make two posts in a single day, but in addition to being Memorial Day (necessitating my post about the Hollywood Canteen this morning), today is the last day of the CMBA Fabulous Films of the 50s Blogathon and I am signed up to cover one of my favorite films of all time. Far be it for me to pass up a chance to talk about Auntie Mame, so I am writing my second post of the day and I can’t wait.

Auntie Mame is a unique piece of art. More than just a film, it is a beautiful character study, a celebration of eccentricity and love of life. Mame Dennis is a true bon vivant, a woman who is so in love with life that it sometimes causes her trouble. She is also sublimely affectionate, maternal, and caring, traits that are seemingly the antithesis of what Mame Dennis stands for, but ones that strangely fit her character. Though Mame does get married, romantic love does not drive the plot. Instead, it centers around loving life, celebrating all that it has to offer.

The original novel of Auntie Mame was written by Patrick Dennis in 1955, and was based on the eccentricities of his much beloved aunt, Marion Tanner. Tanner was known around New York for her red brick house at 72 Bank Street, which often served as a haven for radicals, struggling artists, and other Bohemian personalities. Much like Auntie Mame and her home at 3 Beekman Place, Marion Tanner welcomed strangers into her home for parties and a safe haven, a practice that very much worried her nephew. When he wrote Auntie Mame, she delighted in the comparison, and often brought it up in conversation with guests at her endless parties.

Rosalind Russell, the stage and film star who would ultimately become Auntie Mame’s first and most highly respected interpreter, had her own connection to the character. Shortly before its publication, Russell was sent a copy of the book by the author. When she picked it up to read, she could hardly believe what she was reading. “It’s the Duchess,” she said to her husband, “Someone has written the Duchess.” “The Duchess” was the name that the Russell family had given to Rosalind’s older sister Clara. A stylish, larger-than-life character who knew and loved everyone of importance, Clara gave off an air of royalty that spurred the nickname. For Russell, this character was simply a fictionalized version of the sister she knew and loved so well. The book took on a further significance for Russell in that Clara had died too young of a stroke not long before, and the story brought back a flood of memories that were hard to shake. After the book was published and she was asked to do Auntie Mame on Broadway, she immediately agreed, basing her interpretation on the character traits of her sister.

Rosalind Russell as a child (bottom right) with her siblings. Clara is at the top with the large bow.

The show ran for 639 performances from October 31, 1956 to June 28, 1958. Rosalind Russell and Peggy Cass were nominated for Tony Awards, and Peggy Cass won for her portrayal of frumpy assistant Agnes Gooch. Warner Bros. latched onto the idea of a film, with Russell and Cass reprising their roles, and the film was released in December of 1958. Several other cast members of the original Broadway show appeared in the film, including Jan Handzlik, the boy who played Patrick.

The plot of the movie is not particularly important–it is a character-driven narrative that puts emphasis on celebrating individuality. A young boy, Patrick, is sent to live with his eccentric aunt after his father dies, leaving him an orphan. He arrives at the door of 3 Beekman Place, to find his Auntie Mame giving a wild party–having forgotten that her nephew was supposed to arrive that day. But she welcomes him with open arms, and immediately takes him under her wing as her surrogate son. Complicating matters is Mr. Babcock, the representative from the Knickerbocker Bank that Patrick’s father assigned to make sure “that crazy sister of mine doesn’t do anything too goddamned eccentric.” Mame and Mr. Babcock don’t agree on how to raise Patrick, but ultimately Mr. Babcock has the upper hand and sends Patrick to elite, snobbish private schools, turning him into one of the snobs that Mame detests. At school he falls in love with Gloria Upson, an empty-headed, vapid, country club girl that he intends on marrying. Mame objects to Patrick marrying a girl with “braces on her brains,” but instead of telling him that outright, she hosts a family dinner for the girl’s conservative parents in which she lets her eccentricity out in full force. The girl and her parents are deeply offended, and leave in a huff. Patrick sees that they are unwilling to accept how he was raised, and he reverts back to being the loving nephew of his loving Auntie Mame.

The movie is quite long, covering the period from the 1920s through the end of the Depression as well as Mame’s marriage to her husband Mr. Burnside and her eventual widowhood, but the charming and delightful characters make the time rush by. Rosalind Russell is undoubtedly the star of the show, but there are great performances by many members of the supporting cast. Peggy Cass repeats her Tony-winning performance and gives a hilarious interpretation of Agnes Gooch, the assistant who ends up pregnant out of wedlock (or is she?), and the actors who play Gloria’s conservative parents are fantastic. Adding to the show-stealing performances is the marvelous Joanna Barnes, who has a gift for playing rather unlikable characters to perfection. Here is one of my favorite scenes from the movie.

Director Morton Da Costa was known for being a master of the “in” shot, a method of focusing in on the character at the end of a scene by spotlighting the face while fading the rest of the scenery to black. The technique undoubtedly comes from Da Costa’s years in the theatre scene, as the effect is very theatrical and unusual for film. This was used very nicely in many scenes in Auntie Mame, as well as in another Da Costa triumph, The Music Man, four years later.

Shirley Jones in The Music Man (1962). At the end of the video, watch for Da Costa’s signature “in” shot.

Auntie Mame received wide critical acclaim upon its release. Rosalind Russell and Peggy Cass were both nominated for Oscars, and Rosalind Russell won a Golden Globe for her performance. The film was additionally nominated for Best Picture, Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography, and Best Film Editing at the Oscars.

The film’s opening theme.

As for Marion Tanner, the basis for Auntie Mame, she saw the film’s release and lived a very long and full life for a long time afterward. Sadly, she and her nephew had a falling out due to worries about her carefree lifestyle, and they spoke rarely in her later years. She died in 1985 at the age of 94, and never lost her enthusiasm for life. “I do believe in people, you know,” she liked to say.

Upon glancing at TCM’s schedule for this month, I was thrilled to see that the network is paying tribute to the wonderful June Allyson as their featured Star of the Month. In addition to her status as one of the most charming and charismatic stars at MGM, I have a special connection to June Allyson that makes me especially happy to see her honored this month. I will talk about that later in this post.

Known for her sweet, girl-next-door image, June Allyson reigned as one of the top stars of MGM in the 1940s and 1950s. In contrast to her wholesome, suburban persona onscreen, the girl who was born Ella Geisman grew up in poverty, raised by various relatives in the New York City projects. Despite a childhood accident that rendered her unable to walk for several years without a steel brace, she became a seasoned dancer and eventually began to land gigs in nightclubs and acting roles in musical short subjects with Vitaphone Pictures. In 1938, at the age of 21, she got her first Broadway role in Sing Out the News, and her first starring role came 3 years later in George Abbott’s production of Best Foot Forward.

Due to her performance in the Broadway show, MGM asked Allyson to appear in the film version that was in pre-production in Hollywood. She agreed, and made the trip west. Upon her arrival, she found that Best Foot Forward was going slower than expected, and she was cast in a tiny role in Girl Crazy (1943) to keep her occupied. This is June Allyson’s first appearance in a feature film.

Best Foot Forward came to fruition later the same year, and when Arthur Freed saw her screen test, he demanded that she be put under a long-term contract immediately. Allyson thrived at MGM, using her cherubic face, wide smile, and arrestingly husky voice to her advantage in such films as Two Girls and a Sailor (1944), Good News (1947) and Little Women (1949).

With Peter Lawford in Good News (1947)

The trailer for Little Women (1949)

In 1945, June Allyson married heartthrob Dick Powell, much to the chagrin of Louis B. Mayer who thought Powell was bad for her studio image. She was placed on suspension, but she and Powell remained married until Powell’s death in 1963 and the couple adopted 2 children together. After Powell’s death, Allyson was invited to appear alongside old MGM rival Judy Garland on “The Judy Garland Show,” marking one of the most delightful episodes of the series.

Acting on a lifelong interest in medicine, in later life June Allyson committed herself to educating the public about gynecological and urological diseases in seniors, eventually founding the June Allyson Foundation for Public Awareness and Medical Research. She continued with this work until she died in 2006, at the age of 88.

Now for my connection to June Allyson. I was lucky enough to have met this wonderful woman in the summer of 1998, when I was 12 years old. My very obliging mother had taken me halfway across the country to attend the Judy Garland Festival in Grand Rapids, MN, and June Allyson was the guest of honor that year. I remember her so vividly. Her spirit filled the room, her voice was warm, her character gentle and sweet. She loved children, so my sister and I were subject to great affection. I remember several big bear hugs, and she interacted with me with great tenderness and love. I felt that we were dear friends. I’ve carried that beautiful memory of June Allyson with me always, and I miss her dearly.

Don’t forget to tune in to TCM tonight for an evening with June Allyson! Showing tonight: Two Girls and a Sailor at 8:00 EST, Best Foot Forward at 10:15, and Good News at midnight.

Backlots is devoted to honoring and celebrating all aspects of classic film and is written by Lara Gabrielle, a California-based classic film writer and historian. Lara is currently working on a full-length biography of Marion Davies, the first since 1972.

Here you will find pieces on frequently seen classics and some lesser-known gems, as well as book reviews, festival coverage, and pieces on the history, theory and culture of film as it relates to the study of classic cinema.
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AFFILIATIONS & AWARDS

2019 CMBA Award for Best Profile of Classic Movie Performer or Filmmaker--"The Activism of Myrna Loy"

Winner of the 2018 CiMBA Award for Best Classic Movie Series, BACKLOTS AT THE COURTHOUSE: OLIVIA DE HAVILLAND VS. FX

Winner of the 2014 CiMBA Award for Best Profile of a Classic Movie Performer or Filmmaker: A Q&A WITH JOAN FONTAINE IN HONOR OF HER 96TH BIRTHDAY

Winner of the 2011 CiMBA Award for Best Classic Movie Discussion, THE FINAL SCENE OF THE HEIRESS

I am honored to be a judge of the Animal Film Festival in Grass Valley, CA.

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